


if you don't want me, why can't you let me go

by zombieezia



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, One-Sided Relationship, repressed feelings, sad!harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-12
Updated: 2013-01-12
Packaged: 2017-11-25 05:09:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/635446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombieezia/pseuds/zombieezia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry contemplates when exactly he fell for Louis while the latter gets drunk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	if you don't want me, why can't you let me go

**Author's Note:**

> Fair warning: terrible Britpicking, I think. Also, shamefully short, sigh.

It was a Friday and the last leg of their tour had just ended. One would suppose that One Direction was exhausted, given that their last concert called for three encores that resulted in several things being thrown at them in desperation (the boys took it in stride, of course, but sometimes it got to be a bit taxing), but no.

Niall, especially, was a big ball of bouncing energy that rode on the high of their success. He thought they should celebrate; it was a Friday, after all, and success like theirs deserved to be commended in some way, he reasoned.

As such, he took it upon himself to drag the rest of the boys out to a club—what was a celebration without alcohol, gyrating bodies and loud music? Which is how Harry found himself wallowing in the corner of the bar, nursing his third bottle of beer in the last three hours.

He didn’t quite know when it started, but he’d been listing all the possible times he could’ve started to _like_ Louis Tomlinson in _that_ way, whilst watching said boy, with a melancholy kind of sigh, on the dance floor.

Well…

Maybe it was during Bootcamp, when he talked to boy with the startling blue eyes for the first time and felt the odd pull he’d only ever gotten when he’d been around that girl Robin had caught him with.

It was possibly when Louis first called him “Hazza” (it had slipped out while they were ordering pizza, and had come as naturally as if it were the only thing Louis would’ve called him anyway), and he’d spilled half his glass of Coke before he could regain his composure and retort with some smart comment.

It could’ve been at the end of their first ever solo concert, when he saw the spark in the older boys’ eyes, the endless laugh bubbling from his lips, the complete and utter joy that captured his features.

Maybe it was that time they were being interviewed (he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember which it was) and he’d caught Louis eye and they engaged in a silent conversation and no one had caught on. It was as if they were the only two in the room.

It might’ve been the night Zayn had gotten him so high and drunk that he’d begun to take his clothes off (in public!), but Louis had rescued him by dousing him with ice water and, afterward, treated him to a breakfast of waffles and cheesecake and milkshakes (just the two of them, of course), still sopping wet.

There was also a big probability that it was during one of their mundane moments, like when Louis attempted to cook him breakfast after their big move into their shared flat.

It was possibly even that time he’d seen a child in his arms for the first time (it turned out to be one of his younger sisters) and Harry had just thought that maybe he’d like to have kids with Louis one day.

It could very well have been that miniscule moment he’d filed away as one of his best memories—he and Louis had been completely worn out one night and just crashed onto the couch and fallen asleep beside each other (thankfully it was quite a sizeable couch). Harry had woken up with a slight headache that eased when he took note that he and the older boy had cuddled overnight and he was staring at the way Louis’ eyelashes brushed his cheekbones in a distance that was far from safe.

However way it happened, Harry Styles had completely fallen for his best mate, and it was a feeling that was not, in any way, mutual.

It wasn’t all doom and gloom, he supposed, sipping his drink, and turning his gaze from Niall sucking face with an unknown redhead near the loo. At least he got to live with him… See him every second of the day… Pine after him uncontrollably, but within an (in)appropriate distance.

Who was he kidding? He had it bad and he had to admit it. But no one else _knew_ about it. Hopefully.

I mean, no one could’ve found out… Right?

Now that he thought about it, maybe he had been a little too obvious. He supposed the other boys were used to it (or were they?), as he and Louis touched at every opportunity presented, and the had their fair share of what fans called “Larry Stylinson” moments, but maybe it had been a bit much? Could someone have seen his gaze linger a bit too long on Louis’ profile, or his touch a bit too desperate to be platonic? Because he—

“What are you doing waaay over here, Haz?”

As the slurred words registered in his mind, the curly-haired boy had a sort of mental breakdown as he realized the object of his thoughts had suddenly appeared beside him.

“Erm, nothing,” he replied nervously, shifting so he didn’t have to face Louis head-on.

The older one frowned, his eyes having gone all misty from the alcohol he’d consumed in the hours they’d been in the club. “That doesn’t look like nothing to me,” he said, inching closer and squinting at Harry’s face. “You’re over here all quiet and not having fun. We’re supposed to be having fun!”

Despite everything, Harry had to laugh at the silliness of the situation. Louis made a noise in between a growl and a whine (was it even possible to make such a sound?) and threw an arm around the younger boy, making him flush and clutch his drink for a bit of reassurance.

“You’re drunk, Lou,” he said, laughing nervously this time, and slipping off the stool, therefore forcing Louis to retract the arm slung around his neck. Harry took his arm instead. “Let’s take you home?”

“No!” the other whined, pulling away and swaying where he stood. “Want to get pissed off my rocker tonight, Haz… So happy!”

The younger boy clucked his tongue in response. “If we get out of here right now, I’ll make you bacon and eggs in the morning,” he said as a bribe, hoping it would work.

Luckily, Louis took the bait. “With French toast and black coffee!” he declared, slinging his arm around Harry again. The latter chuckled and nodded, doing a quick scan of the room for his other bandmates (Liam was at the other end of the bar, and nodded when he saw that he meant to leave; Niall had disappeared somewhere, and Zayn was still dancing, albeit a bit sloppily; he figured that Daddy Direction could handle them both anyway) before half-dragging Louis out into the cool night air.

It sobered the older boy up some, who was able to prop himself up a little during their short walk back to the hotel they were staying at.

It was with some measure of relief that Harry pushed Louis onto his bed (it was a good thing they were rooming together that night) and pulled off his shoes so he could tuck the older one in.

Louis stirred and mumbled during his ministrations, causing the other singer to chuckle and lightly shove his shoulder as he pulled the blanket over his body.

“Good night, Lou,” Harry said with a small smile, pecking him chastely on the cheek, though he wished for more.

The older boy turned over and blinked sleepily at him before closing his eyes with a responding smile. “’Night, Haz. Love you. So much.”

Harry froze as he was reaching out to push Louis’ hair off his forehead. He bit his lip, patting Louis’ cheek with a sigh.

“I know,” he said. _But not the way I want you to._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading!
> 
> P.S. This was orginally titled "Took Over" and posted on my Tumblr.


End file.
